


Come and Take a Bite

by kissedtheeaves



Series: Fairly Domestic [2]
Category: Deadpool (Movieverse), Deadpool - All Media Types
Genre: Cats, Domestic Fluff, M/M, but instead I worked on this, i should be writing something else, literal fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-30
Updated: 2018-09-30
Packaged: 2019-07-20 23:27:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16147781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kissedtheeaves/pseuds/kissedtheeaves
Summary: Wade puts up signs. Well, he puts up pieces of paper with a crayon picture of a cat on them.“Found: Cat,” the sign goes. “Is he yours? Too fucking bad. If you want him back, bring $500—”“This isn’t a found sign, it’s a ransom note designed by a deranged toddler,” says Nathan, crumpling up one paper.Or, the fic in which Nathan and Wade get a cat.





	Come and Take a Bite

Nathan hears the sound at two in the morning.

Wade’s arms are around him. It should come as little surprise that Wade sleeps like a drunken octopus—all tangled limbs and close contact. Not even the cold metal of Nathan’s shoulder seems to deter him; his face is mashed into Nathan’s neck, arm around his waist.

When Nathan sits up, he half-expects Wade’s arm to slip away. Rather, those fingers tighten on Nathan’s hip, hard enough to bruise.

“What?” There’s no trace of sleep in Wade’s voice, and not for the first time, Nathan catches a glimpse of that soldier Wade must have been years ago. Those who fight must know how to come awake at a moment’s notice, because a single hesitation can cost lives.

“Don’t know,” Nathan says. His voice is low, but he knows Wade will hear it. “Heard a sound. Came from the balcony.”

Nathan has never liked balconies. They’re a tactical weakness, an entry point when there shouldn’t otherwise be one.

And besides—their balcony overlooks a _parking lot._ Not exactly scenic.

Nathan slips a small handgun from the bedside table. He can sense Wade behind him, going for one of his swords.

An intruder—that thought burns through him, a sweeping wave of heat and anger. Someone’s trying to get inside their home. That person is going to die.

Dressed only in boxers, Nathan prowls into the living room. He keeps to the shadows, out of line of sight of the windows. Not for the first time, he regrets not reinforcing the furniture in case of gunfire. Maybe when this is over—

Wade strolls into the living room, not bothering with any sort of cover. Nathan’s heartbeat quickens.

“Get down,” he hisses.

Wade throws him an exasperated look. One of his katanas is bare in his hand, blade gleaming in the moonlight. “One of these days, I’m going to get a dictionary and look up ‘indestructible’ for you.”

“And I’ll get you a fucking thesaurus,” snarls Nathan, “so you can see the difference between ‘healing factor’ and ‘indestructible.’”

For all that Wade can recover from nearly anything, Nathan knows there have to be ways around that. _He_ killed Wade—and it doesn’t matter that he fixed it. Point is, it can be done. Those power dampening collars are probably available on the black market or for those with government contacts. People are terrible and they are creative—and with all of the enemies that Wade has made over the years, surely some of them will be plotting ways to take him apart.

Over Nathan’s dead body, of course.

“And besides,” adds Nathan, “I’m not cleaning blood out of the loveseat.”

“That’s why we got a red one.” Wade points his sword at the sliding glass door. “I don’t see anyone there.”

The sound comes again. A ripping noise, as if someone’s tearing at their screen. Wade steps forward, and Nathan follows after, gun pointed carefully at the floor.

There’s a flicker of movement, and then Wade is unlatching the lock and pulling the door open.

There’s a creature on the balcony; one paw is hooked in the screen of their sliding glass door.

“Well, well,” says Wade.

For a moment, Nathan wonders if he’s about to watch Wade Wilson get in a sword fight with a raccoon, but then Wade reaches down and unhooks the creature’s claws before scooping it into his arms. “Behold your deadly assassin.” He turns and the light from a nearby street illuminates the animal.

It’s a kitten. A gray kitten, with green-yellow eyes and a tail tightly pressed to its body.

Nathan stares at it. “How did that thing get up here?”

“I don’t know.” Wade squints upward. “Maybe it fell off the roof? Or escaped from the neighbors?” He steps back inside, pulling the door shut behind him.

Nathan clicks the safety back on, then sets his gun on the coffee table. “Why are you bringing it inside?”

“Because I’m hungry,” Wade deadpans, then adds, “No, wait, that was a joke and I don’t know if people eat kittens in the future so don’t get any bright ideas, George Taylor.”

“We don’t eat cats,” says Nathan, wrinkling his nose. “Cats keep vermin out of valuable food stores.” He pauses. “People have been known to eat the rats, though.”

“Fuck me, the future is depressing.” Wade glances toward the kitchen. “Do we have any food in the kitchen?”

“Didn’t you just go shopping?”

“Yes, and I stand by that question.”

Nathan walks into their small kitchen and begins pulling cupboards open. “Nutella, maple leaf cookies, popcorn—”

“Unless you’re planning on getting the cat stoned, I’d recommend looking for tuna.”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Nathan mutters, pushing aside a container of Trader Joes peanut butter cups, “I’m never letting you go to the grocery store unaccompanied again.”

He does find tuna—at the very back of the cupboard with a thin layer of dust atop the can.

When they first moved in together, Wade demanded to know if Nathan could open cans with his metal hand; Nathan had said, “Yes,” and then used that metal hand to operate a can opener.

“You’re secretly a troll at heart,” Wade said, laughing.

The memory makes Nathan smile, just a bit.

Kitten and opened tuna can are gently placed on the linoleum floor. The kitten wobbles in place, takes a halting step away from Wade, then seems to smell the food. It sniffs at the can, then dives in with all of the enthusiasm of a starving man.

“There we go,” says Wade, running his fingertips over the cat’s back. To Nathan’s surprise, the creature arches into the touch and a raspy little purr emanates from its chest. “Who’s a fluffy little apex predator?”

“Now what?” says Nathan. He leans on the counter, watching the creature. “Do we put it back outside, or—”

Wade looks at him as if Nathan suggested they should indeed eat the cat. “No.”

“Then what—”

“Nate Junior can sleep with us.”

Nathan closes his eyes. Counts to five. And then he says, “No. Fuck no. You don’t know where that thing has been—”

“You could say the same thing about me.”

“It could have rabies,” says Nathan. “Or worse, fleas.”

Wade’s fingers find a place on the cat’s neck that it seems to like; it purrs so loudly it nearly topples over.

“That’s right,” Wade tells it, “I’m the fun one. He’s the mean one. Just so we’re clear when you’re old enough to drag someone’s shoes into a litter box.”

Nathan pushes a hand through his hair. “Put it in the bathroom. We’ll deal with it in the morning.”

Wade heaves a dramatic sigh, but he picks up the kitten. “I hope he doesn’t remember this when he’s older. It might be traumatizing.”

“He’s a fucking cat.”

The kitten does go in the bathroom. The tub, to be exact. It’s tall enough that the creature can’t quite escape and its claws make small scratching noises with every attempt.

Wade sleeps through it. Nathan doesn’t.

* * *

Wade puts up signs.

Well, he puts up pieces of paper with a crayon picture of a cat on them.

“Found: Cat,” the sign goes. “Is he yours? Too fucking bad. If you want him back, bring $500—”

“This isn’t a found sign, it’s a ransom note designed by a deranged toddler,” says Nathan, crumpling up one paper.

The gray kitten is sitting on the loveseat, curled up in a tiny gray ball. There’s a small water bowl on the floor, along with a scoop of cat food that Wade borrowed from their upstairs neighbor.

They’re never going to get the cat hair out of the apartment.

“If Nate Junior has former owners, they should’ve known better than to let him out.” Wade glances up from his laptop.

“Stop calling him that.”

Wade spears a bit of scrambled egg on his fork. “He takes after you, though. If we find one of those hairless goblin cats, we can name him Wade Junior.”

Nathan throws a glance at the cat. It seems healthy enough for a stray. If it is a stray. He’ll have to talk to the neighbors, ask if anyone lost a pet.

“If you’re opposed to Nate Junior, we’ll find a new name.”

Wade glances to the kitten; the creature has begun to sharpen its claws on the fabric. Nathan winces.

“Logan,” Wade muses, as if to himself. “No, no. Too obvious.”

“Don’t name it. We’re not keeping it,” says Nathan, in what he hopes is a reasonable voice. It’s the same tone he used when Hope found a lizard and tried to bring it home.

Wade looks at him.

The kitten looks at him.

Nathan has the sinking feeling that this might be a lost battle.

* * *

Nathan puts up signs. Real signs, with typed lettering and an email address. He talks to the neighbors. And he brings the kitten to a nearby vet to scan it for tracking devices. And other dangerous tech.

“You think someone stuck a bomb in a cat and gave it to us?” asks Wade. They’re sitting in plastic chairs in the waiting room; the kitten is on Wade’s knee, eyeing a small dog as if unsure whether it wants to attack or hide in Wade’s pocket.

“I think stranger things have happened,” Nathan replies. “And isn’t there something called ‘exploding kittens’ in this century?”

“It’s a card game, not an assassination technique—”

“Mr. Summers?” A young woman in a long white coat appears in the doorway. Her professional smile widens to something real when she catches sight of the cat. “Oh, look at you.”

“That’s our boy,” says Wade. “Charming everyone that sees him.”

The kitten is placed on a metal table. The vet tech gently runs a hand along his side, taking hold of the cat’s tail. “You’re half right. She is indeed a charmer.”

The cat is scanned, checked over, and given a few treats. “She’s in good health,” says the vet tech. “A little young to be weaned, but sometimes that happens with feral kittens. Their mother can lose them or they can slip away from the colony. She hasn’t been chipped and I’d recommend vaccinating her now, but otherwise she’s fine.” She looks up at Nathan. “We haven’t heard about any lost gray kittens, but we can put something on our billboard. In case someone’s looking for her.”

They leave the vet with a recently vaccinated kitten, several bags of food, a litter box, and a nylon collar.

Red. Of course.

When they’re driving home, Nathan glances over. Wade is sitting in the passenger seat, holding the kitten so she can peer through the window. His scarred fingers are cupped gently around the creature, and there’s something so inexplicably tender about the moment that Nathan has to look away.

Fuck. He’s becoming a soft old man.

“What happens when we travel?” he says gruffly.

Wade looks at him. “What?”

“We’re not taking a cat with us when we hunt down assassins.” Nathan pulls the car to the curb, then unfastens his seatbelt. “It’ll be a distraction.”

“Domino?”

“Has a life.”

“Weasel?”

“Couldn’t keep a plant alive.”

“That fern in the bar—”

“Is made of fucking plastic.”

Wade considers. “Dopinder likes cute things.”

“He also wants to bathe in the blood of your enemies.”

“He’s a good kid.”

Nathan shakes his head, but it’s more in exasperation than true denial.

He knows when he’s beaten.

* * *

The cat is named Dorothy. She sleeps in a heated bed near the window and spends her days chasing fake mice across the kitchen floor. Wade is delighted with her, and the cat seems just as enthralled; she pushes her face against his, purring loudly. And for all that Wade spends his days killing bad people, at night, he seems just as content to sit on the couch and watch Cupcake Wars with a cat tucked into his arm.

Nathan merely sighs and goes along with it. She’s inoffensive, as animals go.

Three months after they acquire the cat, Nathan wakes to the sound of something in the living room. It’s a little after midnight and Wade’s arms are tight around him.

The sound comes again.

It’s the cat. Of course it’s the fucking cat. Nathan closes his eyes again, ready to return to sleep. Then he hears the low growl.

Nathan sits up and Wade’s arm slips from his waist. “What?”

Nathan presses a finger to his lips, easing out of the bed. He slips a silenced gun from the bedside table and prowls to the door. The hinges are oiled and silent as he pushes it open—just a few inches.

He sees the man standing there, pointing a weapon at Dorothy. She is fluffed up and snarling.

Nathan adjusts his aim and pulls the trigger. Silenced guns aren’t entirely silent—but they’re not the rip-roar of normal gunfire, either. It sounds a bit like dropping a book on the floor.

The man falls and doesn’t get up. Nathan prowls not the living room, keeping to the shadows, eyes roaming across the apartment. He can see the point of entry at once—it’s the fucking balcony. The lock is broken and the door half-way open. He is going to wire it with explosives in the morning.

“I think that’s the only one,” says Nathan, kneeling beside the dead man. There’s no pulse. “He’ll have a driver waiting, though, if he’s at all professional.”

“On it,” says Wade. He’s naked and holds one of Nathan’s handguns, and he strolls out of their front door.

Nathan sighs and hopes none of their neighbors will be awake.

Dorothy stands a few feet away, tail crooked to one side.

Nathan kneels beside her. He never thought he’d be grateful for a cat, but here they are. “Thank you,” he says quietly, holding out a hand.

She sniffs, then rubs her cheek along his metal fingers.

* * *

He lets her sleep in the bedroom after that night.

Even if it means washing cat hair out of the sheets.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey thanks for reading! If you comment, a big thanks in advance. (Seriously, you are the best.) 
> 
> Also, if you’re so inclined, I’m on [tumblr](https://kissedtheeaves.tumblr.com).


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